


what doesn't kill me makes me want you more

by alexanderlightweight



Series: Words of October 2019 [13]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Space, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-consensual Healing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 19:09:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexanderlightweight/pseuds/alexanderlightweight
Summary: What use was a bodyguard when it left your heart in danger?





	what doesn't kill me makes me want you more

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ViolettaValery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolettaValery/gifts).

> this was supposed to be a short ficlet for whumptober day 4: human shield 
> 
> oops
> 
> this was really made possible because of first a prompt and then a discussion and then it kinda picked up momentum and ran away from me. So thank you V 💕!!!

Antar reigned supreme and Earth had finally relented, not a complete surrender but close enough to one that Antar had been appropriately gracious. Still, some rebellion remained and as leader of Antar’s armies, Michael was the primary target for discontent and revenge. What had begun as a routine security check had turned to politics and now, he was being forced to consider a human bodyguard. For some it would be an insult, others an annoyance and for Michael, he’d been prepared to find as much amusement as possible in it, until he’d seen who Isobel wanted as his bodyguard.

The son of one of Earth’s greatest rebels, the child of a terrorist who had supported genocide and the love of Michael’s life. 

“You want _ him _, to protect me?” Michael asked, derision dripping from his tone and he ignored the flash of hurt in Alex’s eyes. A decade of cat and mouse, of always being in the wrong place at the wrong time, of having the wrong parents and now this? He would hurt Alex as much as he needed to if it meant sending him away from this mess.

“Micheal, Alex Manes is one of Earth’s most prominent warriors?” Isobel asked in confusion, “his military accomplishments speak for himself even if his skill on the battlefield didn’t. I thought you were willing to have a human bodyguard as a show of trust?”

“Yes, well not him. Wasn’t it his father who nearly killed my mother? And you expect me to trust him to protect me? This is probably what they want.” Michael said and he crossed his arms over his chest, raising his chin just a little and making the room rattle, as if he were losing control at the very prospect of Alex Manes protecting him. The reality was vastly different and yet so dangerously close to the truth.

“That is why it’s important you let him protect you,” Isobel hissed quietly, looking around as if to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard. “If you’re that worried about it, I’ll look into his mind.”

“No!” Michael swallowed down the second protest, licking his lips nervously. “No, if you do that and they find out, it’ll make this whole thing pointless. Better for me to handle it.” 

“So you’ll accept him?” Isobel was still worried about his outburst but he could tell she was relieved.

“I won’t accept him,” he said, louder than before and if the room shook, no one needed to know that it was because he definitely saw Alex’s flinch. “But he’ll do until I can replace him.”

“Good,” Isobel said and her eyes flashed with victory. “Manes, you’ll report to Michael’s head of security, understood?”

Michael bit back a curse as he watched Alex agree, this was one of his worst nightmares and he couldn’t even wake up from it. 

-

Michael knew that if the assassins didn’t kill him, then being this close to Alex and having to ignore him would.

It was a torture that he bore with far less dignity than he should have but it was a torment designed to drive him mad.

How was he supposed to stay sane when protocol dictated that Alex enter any room first? Michael had to watch Alex stalk with a predators gait before him without being able to outwardly admire it. Had to imagine how it would feel, if Alex were shot. Would he stagger first? Or rally and go for the weapon that Michael had personally built and insisted that he use? 

Michael had given it to him, claiming that he was worried about Earth’s inferior technology rather than admit he just wanted Alex to have something that Michael had created. They were almost never alone, surveillance or Michael’s own guards or Isobel’s spies and every time he thought they would get a chance to speak, to clear the air- they were interrupted. 

At night, Michael would wake up thrashing and in the throes of nightmares. He’d lie there panting, the dream of Alex’s face paling from bloodless haunting his sleep and as much as he hated it, he would demand Alex’s presence. Force him to check the windows that were sealed with Michael’s powers, just to see him safe and alive and breathing.

If the worry of Alex being hurt was painful, then the dreams of him dying were the cruelest torment. 

Michael faltered only once, half asleep by the time Alex had finally turned to go and Michael had reached out. Grabbed desperately at him with his powers, pulling him to the bed and wanting nothing more than to tuck Alex in next to him, to hold him in his arms and shelter him from the world.

He hadn’t been able to do any of that.

Alex had gone limp in his hold, head lolling back as he surrendered to what he thought was an act of self-defense on Michael's part and for one terrifying moment, Michael had thought he’d killed him. He’d been furious with himself and with Alex for that image. 

In the nights that followed the incident, sleep did not come easily and when it did oh, _ how the nightmares followed. _

Now, when Michael dreamt of Alex’s death, he dreamt of snapped bones and a brittle body. Of vacant, glassy eyes and the cracked and bleeding smile forming the words _ “as you wish. _” He dreamt that the grave he wailed over was one of his own making. 

If Alex died, there would be no grave. Michael would bring him back to life if he had to use an entire city to do so and if Alex protested that, well, what was one more hurt between them at this point?

-

It was days after and Michael had refrained from calling Alex to his room, no matter how bad the nightmares got and how reassuring it would be to see him. Instead he soaked up Alex’s presence during the day, watched him without caring who noticed and of course, someone did.

“I thought you were trying to protect me, not kill me.” Michael muttered, rubbing furiously at his shoulder from where he’d walked into the doorway.

“Who said I can’t do both?” Isobel asked teasingly, “besides, I’ve seen the way you look at him. Consider this a gift from me, you get to enjoy some eye-candy before karma catches up with him.”

Michael swallowed and reluctantly turned to look at Alex. Alex who was wearing a new uniform that consisted of a black leather jacket and tight leather pants that had been specially modified to adjust for his prosthetic while still doing the utmost at framing his ass.

Michael wasn’t going to survive this and every time he turned around, he was reminded that no one expected Alex to either, they just happened to be for very different reasons.

-

The dart hit Alex first, he went down with it and Michael froze, watching his body hit the ground felt like a thousand fears coming true at once. It was only the beginning. 

He and his men were targeted next, sharp needles piercing through armor and skin and Michael could feel the instant disconnect from his power, the nearly overwhelming wrongness of his skin.

He ached and Alex was too far away for him to hold.

“Sir!” One of his men called and Michael grit his teeth, gathering his balance as he remained standing even as others fell around him. He was stronger than them, stronger than his enemies and he would prove that.

There was a drop, a mere taste of his power still at his disposal and he readied it. He knew the darts were only the first part of the attack, a rare but effective way of subduing Antarans. Bullets were easier to apprehend but darts, those led the way for further destruction and brought death in their wake.

Just a few feet away, Alex got back to his feet and Michael heaved a sigh of relief even as Alex turned towards him.

Michael tasted it first, warm droplets of salty iron on his lips, even before he saw Alex stagger. His name fell like a desperate warning, a plea from Alex’s lips as he staggered. Michael caught him before he could fall, cradling him closer than he’d been allowed to for what felt like years. Alex’s body, so warm and so close and bleeding out in his arm. More shots rang out but he could only focus on Alex who was once again leaving him behind.

“We have the sniper,” one of his soldiers said, “but the area is still unsecured. Sir, we need to get you to the ship. Now!”

Michael ignored him, sinking to his knees as he gently lowered Alex’s body to the violet ground. “Alex,” he whispered softly and pressed his hands down on his chest, feeling the delicate creak of human bones protest beneath his palms. “Alex please, not like this. Not ever.”

“Michael, you need to go. I’ll be okay, but you need to go.” Alex said and Michael shook his head in protest. He felt numb, empty of everything but desperate fear and his breath hitched when a warm, wet palm pressed against his cheek. 

It was a sick, twisted mimicry of a lovers embrace. How Alex used to cradle his jaw before gently tangling his hand through Michael’s curls to pull him down for ardent, adoring kisses.

“Michael, please. _ Go _.” 

He could feel Alex’s bloody handprint on his cheek like a brand to his soul, memorized the brush of his fingers through a few stray curls and could imagine how he must look. Hair stained crimson and face claimed by a dying lover, a cruel imitation of a promise he’d always craved.

“Get him to safety,” Alex said. A final command and they listened, Michael’s own warriors disobeying their leader, their ruler as they pulled him away. 

“Alex,” Michael called and he fought the arms on him, “_ Alex _!” 

Michael let out a litany of curses, his voice heralding threats of violence on both them and their families and vowing to destroy all that they represented but still they wouldn’t listen. 

_ Betrayal. _

“Someone will retrieve the body,” a soldier informed him, “as soon as you’re safely secured, Sir.”

Michael went limp, let himself be dragged just long enough for them to think that he’d listened as he reached deep within himself. It was a place he rarely dared go. That hallowed, hollow place inside where Rath resided.

They could contain Michael but Rath would never allow himself to be subdued. It was why Michael buried that part of him so far down that it was forgotten, even by himself at times. One should always have a contingency plan and Rath was Michael’s. Michael couldn’t be sure how this would end but if Alex lived then it would all be worth it.

Rath awoke from Michael as a swimmer surfaced from the deep, born anew and greedy for air. 

Rath was not Michael or his men, to be so limited by something as fickle as a pollen filled dart. No, Rath was power and it could not be stripped from him. 

The soldiers were pushed aside, batted away as easily as a child discards a useless toy. Across the divide his powers found Jesse Manes and they broke him, an afterthought that Rath barely took note of. There were things of far more importance than the death of an enemy. 

Normally, Rath demanded his lovers to come to him but for Alex, always and _ only _ for Alex he would set aside his pride. Rath’s feet barely brushed the ground, power practically begging to be put to use as he finally reached the man he loved and oh, how beautiful but broken could one man be.

Where Michael would have asked and pleaded for Alex to stay, cajoled and sweetly begged him, Rath demanded. It took but one move for him to kneel and around him his soldiers followed, by no will of their own but by Rath’s command. For Alex, he might kneel but the world would crumble before he bent the knee for anyone else. Max sat on a throne not by his merit alone but by the grace Rath showed in allowing him to rule.

“You will not leave me,” he told Alex, “or the blood of a thousand worlds will water your grave.”

Alex laughed, blood bubbling against his lips and dyeing them the sacred red of life. Michael would have wiped it gently away but Rath claimed it for his own with a demanding kiss. Alex’s breath was too precious to be lost to the atmosphere. If they were to be his last than Rath would hoard them away, a treasure far too valuable to be wasted.

“You’re safe,” Alex told him, _ promised _ him. “Safe from my family, from my father and safe from me.”

“You tore my heart apart once,” Rath reminded him, “and it never healed the same. How could I ever be safe from you when everything I do is because of you?”

_ “Michael.” _

“If you’re are lost to me, what reason is there to spare the living? If death takes you from me, why should the universe be allowed to thrive?” Rath and Michael asked both in agreement and both tragic in love.

“You always were overdramatic,” Alex said and he coughed, weaker still than before. 

“You always did think too little of yourself.” Rath told him, “one of the many things I am going to change. No more pretending, no more hiding away from the truth.” 

“What truth?” Alex asked and his eyes widened in alarm when Rath began to unbutton his shirt, pulling aside his armor. “You can’t heal,” he said desperately. But a dying man’s desperation was no match for a living god’s determination, “that’s not one of your powers. Michael, it could kill you. Stop, please.”

“One of my powers?” Rath asked almost thoughtlessly as he pressed his hand to Alex’s marred skin, “you don’t know the extent of my power, Alex. No one does. They will though, if it means keeping you then I’ll tear this galaxy apart and move on to the next. Once, the records named me a star killer. For you, I’ll let them remember why.” 

Alex mouth, lovely and stained, opened to no doubt utter a protest and when Rath pressed down, he screamed instead.

It was a beautiful sound, full of pain and life and strength and it _ belonged _ to Rath. Every precious moment of it was a promise, a vow that Alex would not be taken from him, that he _ could _ not be taken from him. Rath was born to defy fate, he had conquered life and he had martyred death and he would not let the mortal downfall of compassion change that now. 

It was Rath’s powers that brought Alex back to life but it was _ their _ arms that carried Alex to the ship, to safety and to _ their _ bed. Where he was placed with gentle reverence where he belonged and where he could be kept safe. Even healed Alex’s body was too still for his liking but he knew, from the handprint that connected them that he was still alive. He could feel every beat of Alex’s heart like an echo of his own.

From the moment Rath had connected them, he had felt everything that Alex had tried to hide. All this time Alex had pretended that his heart had hardened and that the love he felt for Michael had calcified and decayed but Rath knew now that the bitter, beautiful truth was that he loved Michael. That Alex’s heart beat for him alone, that he adored Michael with such a devout fervor that it had Rath’s own heart aflutter in aching, twinned sympathy. He’d never doubted Alex’s emotions but to feel them, what a balm to the soul it was.

-

“Michael!” Isobel called and she ran to him, a sister relieved to find her kin alive and well. It pinged something in him, a softening of his outward stoicism and he allowed her to embrace him. Wrapped his arms around her in return and held her close, knowing that things would change between them very soon.

“You’re alright?” She asked worriedly and stepped back, hand on his shoulder, “did Manes threaten you? They said you wouldn’t leave his body, someone even said you tried to heal him? Are you okay?”

“The enemy was dealt with. Jesse Manes is dead and retrieving Alex Manes body was simply a show of goodwill,” he said and tried to match his voice to hers. It was a little stiff, but he knew that it would be attributed to shock, “Earth can’t claim us callous with their warriors.”

“So he is dead?”

“It’s simply incredible what a skilled hand can do.” Rath said with a smirk and then smoothly added, “the armor he wore was well made.” 

“That’s a relief,” Isobel said, “apparently he’s friends with Liz.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I didn’t want to alarm you but gods, can you imagine how annoying Max would be if Liz lost a friend.” Isobel gave a deliberate shudder, “the amount of consoling I’d have to pretend to be capable of.” 

“You are capable of it,” he reminded her.

“Yes, but I’d have to pretend to be sad about her friend.”

Rath clenched his hand, the one that had given life back to Alex and pasted a roguish grin on his face, “you wouldn’t be?”

“For Alex Manes? Half the reason I let him be picked as your bodyguard is because I knew he’d do anything to prove he wasn’t like his father.” Isobel’s smirk was tinged with cruelty, “fair is fair after all. Mara and I both agreed that if he died to save your life, it would be

“My mother was part of this scheme?”

“I wasn’t about to let her find out from the rumor mill that the son of the man who tried to kill her was protecting her only child. She agreed that his death would be a fitting punishment for his families crimes.”

“And now?”

Isobel shrugged, “he’s proven himself but he’s still a Manes. Once the rebellion is crushed for good he’ll be discreetly sent away. I doubt Mara will have him killed, not after he successfully protected you. However there won’t be a place for him, not on Antar.” 

“How tragic,” Rath mused, “that’s practically ruthless, _ Vilandra _.”

Isobel turned, eyes sparking and defiant, “we’re not them, _ Michael _. I have no need of that name. This was to protect you, to have justice that otherwise would never have happened.”

“Of course. As you say, it was merely justice.” He kept his tone light and even gave a gentle, playful tug on her hair. 

Isobel relaxed and looked relieved, he knew that her abilities, the history that she could claim, it scared her. She ran from her legacy as did Max. Michael however had never truly ran from the truth, only hidden it until it was of need and now, if he was going to have Alex by his side and keep him safe, Rath would always be needed. 

They both would.

For Alex, Rath would destroy the world and for Alex, Michael would rebuild it.

Michael had never been able to leave a mark anywhere on Alex but Rath’s, his would never fade.

-

“I should be dead.”

Rath scoffed as he shook his head, ignoring Alex’s absurd statement, “I don’t appreciate blasphemy being spoken in my own bed.” 

Alex ignored him, narrowing his eyes in reprimand, “Michael.” 

Rath ignored him, reaching to press his hand to match the print on Alex’s chest. 

“Fine, _ Rath _.” 

Rath’s lips curled into a smirk, the victorious pleasure of his name being said blossoming between them, a fruitful garden of triumph. 

“_ Alexander _,” his fingers danced against their glowing match, “my ardent defender. Protector of my heart.” Alex gasped, low and soft and for his ears alone, just as this admittance was for Alex only.

“After all this time, why now?”

“If there were ever a reason for me to destroy the world, it would be you.” Rath promised and leaned forward, pressed a kiss to Alex’s brow and then resting his cheek against Alex’s jaw. “Will you deny the same?”

“How can I,” Alex asked as his hand joined Rath’s over their connection, “how can I lie to your face knowing you feel the truth.” 

Rath kissed him then, a reward and a consolation.

“What about your family? Your duties? The politics of you being with a human are complicated enough but me, how will it even work?” 

“We’ll worry about that later,” Rath promised, “first though, first we’re going away. Just the two of us. Everything else can wait, this time is ours.” 

-

The ship was small and the stars before them seemingly endless as Alex stood on the observation deck. 

“How are you feeling?” Rath asked, pressing a kiss to Alex’s bare shoulder. The wound he’d borne in defense of Michael had left no scar, but the handprint would remain. A stark reminder that he had almost died, almost been taken away and that by Rath’s power he’d lived.

“Good, healthy.” Alex said and turned, tilting his head and allowing himself to be wrapped in a tight embrace. “How are you?” 

“Ready to show you the stars.”

“How do you know I haven’t seen them?” Alex asked, “we spent years apart. I could have seen all of this without you.”

Rath scoffed even as Michael’s petulant irritation welled, “then I’ll discover new ones.”

“You’re going to compete with the universe then?” 

“I’m going to win against the universe,” Michael said and Rath settled, going nowhere but pleased and just as excited as he was. “I already have, after all I have you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I realized towards the end of writing this that it happened completely from Michael/Rath’s perspective and that Alex rarely had any lines (not that there is a lot of dialogue) and… this is pretty much the opposite of anything I’ve ever written/tried to write for RNM. During Guerin week I had to throw out several stories because they turned into Alex’s POV or focused on him.
> 
> So there will probably be a sequel from Alex’s perspective because my brain got cranky when it realized what had happened.
> 
> Please let me know if I missed any tags.
> 
> I'm on tumblr as [alexanderlightweight](https://alexanderlightweight.tumblr.com)


End file.
